The Night Darkness Ended and We Began
by Liv Wilder
Summary: A bridge for episode 3x24 'Knockout' between the hangar scene and the funeral. 'You're sitting on the hood of your car outside the aircraft hangar when she finally appears, grief and the darkness painting her face with an ash-grey wash. "Castle? What are you still doing here?" she asks. "Waiting for you." COMPLETE


_A/N: This is what happens when I re-watch old Castle eps. _

_A bridge for 3x24 'Knockout' between the hangar scene and the funeral. Well, in my wee world, where the path of history can be easily altered and bent to my will. ;) _

_Thank you to BlueOrchid96 for talking this one through with me and reading my half-written ramblings at midnight. As always, I value your advice and feedback, my dear._

* * *

"_If you were the ocean and I was the sun_

_If the day made me heavy and gravity won_

_If I was the red and you were the blue_

_I could just fade into you"_

"_If you were a window and I was the rain_

_I'd pour myself out and wash off the pain_

_I'd fall like a tear so your light could shine through_

_Then I'd just fade into you"_

_**-Sam Palladio & Clare Bowen**__, 'Fade Into You'_

* * *

_**The Night Darkness Ended And We Began**_

"Beckett."

"Kate."

You kneel down beside her as she bends over the body of her dead Captain, her mentor, her friend, place your hand on her shoulder, tentatively, unsure of the reception you'll get. But she's so beaten down by this point, all fight gone out of her, and you can see defeat in the bow of her spine. So she bends to your will for once, lets you guide her backwards, falling hard against your knees and chest until you can lift both of you to a standing position off the cold, smooth hangar floor.

She doesn't turn to you at first, just stands staring down at the man she viewed as a father figure, one of a succession of father figures - her own included - who have let her down over the years since her mother died and her normal, middle class, all-American life was turned upside down.

You step back away from her, content to hover in the background for now; a new father figure here to watch over her tonight. You did as Roy Montgomery asked, unquestioning in your willingness to save your partner if you could, determined to have her back. He explained little when he called, beyond time and place and '_no matter what happens, Castle, do not give up'_. So you carried her kicking and screaming from that spot, knowing that a man you had come to admire so much would die in her place tonight. Your love for her is unconditional, but then so was Roy Montgomery's. He valued Kate Beckett's life above the happiness of his own wife and family; he made the ultimate sacrifice for her and paid the ultimate price to make-up for his part in her mother's murder. Yet none of it seems fair or honorable; no justice done here tonight beyond that of mob justice.

* * *

The place is swarming with police before long, and though Kate is in no fit state to stay, let alone work this case, she steps up, takes control of the scene to ensure that Roy Montgomery's memory is unsullied by the truth of what happened in the distant past and what transpired tonight. She sets out with deliberate calculation to protect his reputation and secure a future for his family – buried with full honors, presented with a flag, looked after with a healthy death in service payment and full police pension. She truly does forgive him and make her peace, and she seems all the more remarkable in your eyes for these actions.

By 11pm things are wrapping up on your end. Ballistics have the place laced with lasers trying to establish and record the complex angles of the gun fight that took place, men walk the ground in the dark outside with metal detectors, and careful fingertip searches recover most of the discarded shell casings from inside the hangar floor. Kate has given a detailed statement, and, but for the brief outline she told you to keep to, your role in tonight's events has been minimized to a footnote.

* * *

You're sitting on the hood of your car outside the aircraft hangar when she finally appears, grief and the darkness painting her face with an ash-grey wash.

"Castle? What are you still doing here?"

She seems surprised to see you, but tries to hide it, tries to hide the small blink of pleasure you think you spot before she quickly schools her features.

"Waiting for you."

"Why?" she asks, sounding genuinely mystified.

"_Why?_ Because— Do I even need to articulate a reason after…after _that_?" you ask, pointing in the direction of the hangar?

Kate is clearly still in work mode, but she loses some of her bluster in the face of the truth that she knows you have experienced with her tonight; the truth of this deadly, horrendous, shared event and your own murky, complex role in it. She seems to lose some height, some stature, and her face falls into a pale mask of heavy exhaustion.

"Thank you. For having my back in there. I know you were only doing your best, what Roy asked of you, even if I don't agree with what you did," she tells you, before looking away out into the darkness and then training her eyes on the ground.

"You don't—?" you choke, disbelieving your own ears. "Was I supposed to let you _die _in there, Kate? Is that it? Stand by and let you _both die_?" you demand.

"No, Castle…"

"Because that's what was going to happen, if Roy hadn't called me."

"Not necessarily."

"I can't believe you're even arguing this with me," you say, turning in a circle, running a hand through your hair in frustration that she can't see the facts staring her in the face. "_Their_ firepower against you and Montgomery? Just how deluded are you, Kate? You've fallen down the rabbit hole and then some this time."

"As I said, thanks for having my back," she says, somewhat coldly, before turning to walk away.

"Where do you think you're going?" you ask, jogging the few steps it takes to catch up with her, the cool breeze of the open airfield ruffling your hair, and you reach for her arm to prevent her from leaving.

She lets you take hold of her arm and she freezes, meeting your eyes, then looks back down at the hand you have wrapped around her wrist. She stares at it in silence until you let go.

"Castle, go home," she says, sounding defeated.

"No," you reply, standing your ground. "Get in. You're not driving. Let me take you home," you insist, and something inside, you don't know what it is, but something inside of you tells you that she will follow when you walk away. So you do.

You unlock your car, you get in and fire up the engine, and by the time you're ready to put it in drive she is silently sinking down into the seat beside you and slamming the door.

* * *

The beginnings of the journey back to Manhattan happen in belligerent silence – hers – while you keep your eyes on the road and try to quiet your spinning mind. Roy Montgomery is dead and you did nothing to prevent it happening. You don't know how you're ever going to get past that, since it goes against every human, humane, moral instinct you have. Other than that making a different choice would most likely have meant losing Kate. So, by that measure alone, there was no choice to be made - that's the kicker.

You're on approach to the Holland Tunnel before you clear your throat to make sure your voice is still functional and speak.

"I called you," you say, flatly, the sodium flare of the tunnel lights washing your faces with strobe-like repetition as you pass deep beneath the Hudson, the hurt and accusation in your voice a fitting accompaniment to this bleakness of this place.

"Twenty-seven times, I know," she replies, letting the back of her hand rest against her mouth as she stares out of the side window into the darkness.

"You never answered."

"Castle, I told you we were over. What did you expect?" she asks, rubbing her hands down her jeans, refusing to look your way.

"Over? What do you mean _over_? What does that even mean? Over sounds like we were…" you shrug, unsure how to describe being in some kind of a relationship with this complicated woman; one you both never talk about.

"_What?_" she challenges, boldly turning in her seat to look at you, fired up and somehow freed of societal mores by the experience you've just gone through together; both complicit in another man's death, a man you both loved and admired and now all of that jumbled and confused with the revelation of his past crimes.

"I—I don't know. Over? Under? What the hell is the opposite of that? That we were _something_ in the first place."

"Oh, we were something. Something _dysfunctional_," she throws back at you.

"Yeah, well, everyone around here seems to think it was _my job_ to deal with you. And that's pretty messed up to me. So, yeah, I'll give you dysfunctional."

"Wait? What do you mean – 'everyone around here…'? What the hell are you talking about?" she asks angrily.

* * *

You park the car in front of her building, get out wordlessly, going upstairs with her whether she likes it or not. You put your hand out for her keys and for some reason she gives them to you. She looks wrung out, grieving, exhausted, and you want nothing more than to comfort her, and yet here you are fighting again over what you are and what you're not.

"Nothing," you tell her, stabbing the button in the elevator. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's nothing and it's over now anyway so…" you shrug and look at the floor.

She trails you down the hall to her apartment and you put her key in the door, open it and walk inside after her, dumping her keys on the hall table after locking up behind you, having no idea where this is going or how you are able to take charge for a change; invading her space for her sake as well as your own, because you feel as if you both need this tonight – to be with one another in whatever capacity you can manage to patch together.

But Kate isn't for letting this thing go and you curse your own runaway mouth when she picks up the threads of your conversation without further pause.

"It's over_ so…_? So, you'd better damn well start explaining yourself, Castle, or—"

"Or what? You'll throw me out again? Hmm? We'll be '_over_' again? Is that it? Because that doesn't seem to be working out too well for us, does it? Here we are," you say, waving a hand between both of you. "_Again!_"

She growls in frustration and walks away, talking off her jacket and throwing it over a chair, and then she stands with her back to you facing the windows, her arms crossed, her posture fierce.

* * *

"I forgave him, you know," she says, breaking the silence, and her change of subject catches you off guard.

Her voice reminds you how vulnerable she is at this moment, magnifies the ordeal she's been through tonight: its wavering, brittle quality, the weight of exhaustion slowing her down.

"I know," you tell her quietly, waiting a beat before adding. "And Roy knew it too."

She turns at this statement, like it's something she needed to hear and she looks at you with uncertainty in her eyes.

"You really think so?"

"Kate, I know so. That you could even say those words to him…after everything…I—"

You shake your head.

"You're a better person than me, that's for sure. I'm not…I don't know that I could be so forgiving if I were in your shoes," you admit, and it's the truth, and you need her to see it to make her understand how extraordinary she is.

"Want a drink? I need a drink," she says, throwing you again when she heads for the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine without waiting for an answer.

She lifts two glasses down off the shelf and begins slopping white wine into them with a shaky hand, while you hover in the middle of her living room floor entirely unsure what to do with yourself.

"Here," she says, holding out a glass, so that you are forced to come and take it from her.

She pulls a stool out from under the small island and perches her butt on the edge of it, her long legs still reaching all the way to the floor and then some. You take the glass and stand stiffly for a second or two, before grabbing a stool and sitting down opposite her. You drink quietly, staring down at the metallic surface of the counter, until she clears her throat and you look up to meet her smoky eyes.

* * *

"To Roy," she says eventually, raising her glass in a toast, her bottom lip quivering by the time you tap the rim of your glass against hers.

"To Roy," you agree, taking a swig of wine.

Her brave façade is slipping and you have to make a decision, whether to ignore it and let her have her grief alone or to join her in sharing the absolute darkness of this night.

She takes the decision out of your hands, swiping at a tear that rolls down her cheek, she laughs and says, "If you ever tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, Castle, I _will_ hurt you."

"Don't need to repeat _that_ instruction twice," you reply, giving her a brave smile of your own.

"Hmm. That'll be a first," she teases back, ignoring the next couple of tears that course down her face.

And you think that, if it is at all possible, you love her even more for letting you see her like this - so raw and so exposed.

"So, what's the big secret?" you ask, resting your hand on your chin in fascination.

"I was so mad at you last night after you left. Actually, more at myself, if I'm honest. But that's another story. Anyway, I went to see Roy, and he told me that he could have gotten rid of you at any time. That he only kept you around because you were good for me. That I wasn't having any fun before you showed up. And you know what?"

"What?" you ask, warily, surprised to hear any of this coming out of her mouth, after the way things ended between you these last couple of days.

"I think I always knew that about our…_situation_, but I…I never pushed back hard because I wanted you here too," she tells you, quietly, so quietly that you have to strain to listen. She keeps her eyes trained down into the bowl of her wine glass while she confesses, but the second she stops speaking she glides her eyes up to meet yours, seeking a reaction to this piece of news.

You clear your throat and take another sip of wine, unsure how to reply.

"I was so angry at you for asking me to walk away from my mom's case that I told him I wanted you gone, and he said 'consider it done' immediately, and I…I realized how stupid I'd been to even think about asking him for that, because the second it was out of my mouth I regretted it," she tells you, as more tears slide down her cheeks.

"Kate…" you admonish her, trying to stop this emotional confession, imagining she'll hate herself for it later; for baring her soul to you at a time of weakness.

"Castle, please let me finish. You were right the other night when you came here. You were right about everything, and you were trying…trying to push me to deal with something we've both been avoiding for…for months or maybe even years? I don't know. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Sorry for what?"

"For…well, for everything. For being a coward, for throwing you out. I—you were right. We do have to talk about that stuff. About all of it. And what happened tonight only clarified that."

"What happened tonight was horrifying, Kate. But it's no reason to overreact, to make decisions or changes to your life that…"

"Wait! Wait. Stop. Are you saying that you've changed your mind? Or am I…did I get this wrong? Castle, please tell me I didn't read things the wrong way."

"No! No, you didn't. You have to know that you didn't, Kate," you tell her, staring into her eyes so that there is no avoiding the truth, not this time; you know that you both feel it – this thing between you.

"Then…what makes you think that I'm overreacting?"

"I…bad word choice. Okay? Look, I just meant that you're grieving right now and in shock. We both are, and so, maybe now isn't the best time to be talking about this stuff."

"And what if it's _exactly_ the right time, Castle? Thirty seconds later and those guys would have caught all three of us in that hangar tonight. No more chances. No more time to wait around and procrastinate and take the cowards way out of saying…"

She drops her head into her hands, pressing the heels into her eye sockets.

"Saying what?" you ask gently, touching her arm.

"Saying the things that need to be said," she offers, quietly, frowning the second the words are out of her mouth. "See. I'm still doing it. Roy is _dead_. He has no more chances, no more time to apologize or change the past."

"We can't change the past either," you point out, as softly as you can.

"Maybe not. But we can influence the future. We can be honest about what we want, about how we feel…"

"How _do_ you feel?"

"Numb…right now. He's gone and he's not coming back, Castle. We walk into that Precinct tomorrow and Roy's office is not his office anymore. He's not our Captain anymore. I…will you come with me to see Evelyn and the girls?" she asks, surprising you again.

"Sure. Whatever you need."

"Thank you. Thank you for being there for me. I know I don't…_haven't_ told you often enough how much that means. But I—"

"Shhh. Tonight is not the time for any of this, Kate. You should get some rest," you say, putting your glass down and rising from the counter.

* * *

"Stay with me?" she asks, stopping you in your tracks when you turn towards the door.

"I'm— Excuse me?"

"Just…for a little while?" she asks, looking down into her glass again and then back up at you. "I don't want to be alone."

"Shouldn't you call Josh and let him know what just happened?"

"Do you _want_ me to call Josh?" she asks, and you can see how she means the question – as a naked challenge to you, for you to state once and for all what you want for both of you; to stake your claim.

"Kate…" you shake your head and look down at your hands, awkwardly clasped in front of you.

"What?" she asks, and when you look at her you see a new, frightening resolve in her eyes. "Tell me," she pushes.

"I crossed a line the other night with some of the things I said. You have a boyfriend. I shouldn't have…"

"You're right. I should call Josh," she says, standing up.

"Then, I will bid you good night, Detective, and…"

Kate surprises you by taking hold of your arm as you back away, your heart in tatters, trying to hide the disappointment you know must be showing on your face with a rush to gentlemanly courtesy that you fall back on in such circumstances.

"Castle?" she says, her voice gentle, but shot through with quiet determination.

"Yes?" you ask, surprised to find her standing right in front of you.

"You didn't let me finish. I need to call Josh to tell him that it's over."

"Oh," you say, nodding your head slowly, acutely aware of Kate's cool fingers still wrapped around your wrist, the soft pad of her index finger brushing over the tendon beneath your cuff.

"You don't sound too thrilled."

"Am I supposed to be? I…I mean, what does that even mean? What are you saying, Kate, am I…"

* * *

When she kisses you, your whole body goes rigid with shock and you can barely even breathe. The kiss is over in a couple of seconds, but the after effects and the impression she makes on you last much longer. Her lips against yours are electric, your whole body comes alive and you want nothing more than to pick her up and carry her into her bedroom and wipe away every horrific second of what happened tonight by worshiping her body with yours until neither of you can think straight. Only you know that you can't. Now isn't the time.

"What's wrong?" she asks, when you pull away and hold her at arm's length.

You shake your head, afraid of her, afraid _for_ her.

"Castle, what's wrong? I thought that's what you wanted?"

"You…you don't have to please me, Kate. Or…or _thank_ me for being there for you. Not like this. I—I'm your partner."

"And my friend, yes, I know. You said already," she replies, her tone hurt and confused sounding.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Then tell me, for once, Rick, just tell me what you _do_ want? Because I'm not sure that I know anymore."

"Kate, not tonight."

"You keep saying that!" she yells, then covers her mouth, surprised at her own outburst. "Roy is _dead_, Castle. Whatever we talk about tonight, it won't bring him back. The least we can do is honor his memory by being honest with each other."

"Why are you pushing this? Why? Why now of all times?"

"Why not? We're mortal. If tonight didn't reinforce that, I don't know what will. When you carried me out of that hangar, you took away my choices."

"I chose life for you over death!" you tell her angrily.

"Then make that choice _mean_ something, Castle! Make Roy's sacrifice _mean _something."

"What do you want me to tell you? That…that I look at you every single day and I'm reminded every time that you're not mine. That I'm your partner and your friend and I wish that we could be so much more and yet…no. We can't. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Rick…"

"Don't," you say, shrugging off her touch, your voice full of hurt. "Don't, Kate. Don't start something tonight that you have no hope of continuing. That we will both regret tomorrow."

"Would you?" she challenges.

"Would I what?"

"Regret it?"

"I'm not that guy, Kate. You're grieving. And you're not free."

"But if I was?"

"I think you know the answer to that already. But since it's a hypothetical," you shrug, "moot point."

* * *

You let the dust settle, your heart rate slow, and then you prepare to do the right thing for the second time tonight; you prepare to leave. You go to the sofa to pick up your jacket and only stop when Kate speaks to you again, her words in part lifting your spirits and in part putting the cold fear of darkness into your heart.

"I don't want us to miss another chance. After tonight, I'm done waiting for the right time, Castle. These guys could come after me next, and…"

"Don't, Kate. Don't say that," you urge, turning round and taking a few steps towards her.

"He looked so…so brave and so stoic," Kate says out of nowhere, blindsiding you, her voice wavering. "How do you do that?" she asks you, her whole façade crumbling before you. "Castle, how do you stand there knowing you're about to die?" she asks, the tears starting to stream down her face as the full force of grief hits her.

"I don't know," you tell her quietly, reaching for her this time. "I honestly don't know."

She steps into your arms without a second's hesitation and you embrace one another, clinging on tightly through your shared grief.

"I don't want anything to happen to you, Kate," you whisper against her hair. "Please stop this? If not for me, then do it for your dad."

"My dad?"

"He's lost so much already," you tell her, using some of her own father's words against her.

"What do you mean?"

"Come, sit down," you say, taking her hand.

* * *

You curl up on the sofa next to one another. You don't mean to stay but she has this look about her, like she doesn't want you to leave, and against your better judgment you go with it, let her decide for both of you.

"Your dad came to see me a couple of nights ago. When I said everyone seemed to think I could…I don't know, I think I said _deal_ with you… I'm not really thinking straight tonight, so forgive the poor word choice. But he and Roy, they both thought I was the only one you would listen to, the only one who could get you to stand down. Everyone is worried about you, Kate. Me included."

You rub the back of your neck, exhausted, acutely uncomfortable revealing these things to her, but feeling the need to be open, to share all the messiness, no matter how dark.

"That's…that's quite a responsibility they put on your shoulders," she acknowledges, touching your knee.

"Tell me about it," you laugh a little uneasily, looking up to find her staring at you.

"I meant what I said about Josh," she says quietly, meeting your gaze.

"I know. And I meant what I said about not being that guy. Do you have _any_ idea how much I want to be with you?" you ask her, hoping to convey at least a fraction of the desire you feel for this woman with your voice alone. You sigh. "Do you, Kate? But tonight? No."

You shake your head, and she looks stricken, so you hold out your arm to her, and she comes instantly, tucking her body into your side, hugging your torso with her arms. You kiss her crown, breathing in the uniquely familiar scent of her while she snuggles up against you.

"Let's do this right, okay? Clear the decks, deal with the funeral, the fallout at work from Roy's death. I'll be there for you, you know that, every step of the way. And then when things settle down, we can talk," you assure her.

"Okay, I agree on the timing. But no more talking, Castle. I know what I want. Let me fix this, and then I want us to move forward. Together."

She just throws it out there - all you've been hoping for and dreaming of for years - like it's a simple choice. Your heart is racing and your palms are sweating and you really don't trust yourself not to take advantage of the situation.

"God, Kate, this is so…" you swallow, kissing the top of her head again and tightening your arm around her, need coursing through you making you shake, never so tempted to do the wrong thing in your life.

"Tell me it's a good thing?" she asks, looking up at you. "I could do with something good right about now."

"Good? Yes. Are you kidding me? The best."

"Will you stay tonight? We can sleep out here if you want. I really don't want to be alone."

You agree reluctantly – reluctant to stay - but knowing there is no way you can leave either, if she needs you badly enough to ask you to be here with her, remembering her father's story about the nightlight.

* * *

You finish the bottle of wine between you, chatting quietly, reminiscing about Roy, and you learn more about the man in one night spent talking to your partner and hearing her stories than you have in the last three years working almost daily in the man's 'house'. Talk turns to Alexis eventually, and then Kate wants to hear in detail about the night her dad came to visit you. The atmosphere is relaxed, you know one another so well already, even if being alone like this and flirting more than usual, is new for both of you. Difficult circumstances are at play tonight, and you both need the closeness, the bond, that this terrible, shared experience has forged in bringing you together.

Kate yawns and stretches when the time gets close to two in the morning.

"I'll get us some blankets. You know where the bathroom is," she says, going to a hall closet to fetch some extra bed linen. "Spare toothbrush in the cabinet," she calls out, when you disappear along the hall.

You stand in front of the bathroom mirror feeling like a guy on the edge. The woman you've been in love with for years finally wants to sort everything out so that you can be together. You feel like smacking yourself for holding back. But then you look in the mirror and you see this tired, shocked looking face staring back at you, a face you hardly recognize, and you know, you know beyond a doubt that you're doing the right thing for everyone's sake. If you feel this shell shocked, Kate is a million times more vulnerable right now.

You slowly wash your face and brush your teeth, and then you go back out into the living room. Kate has changed out of her jeans into leggings and a baggy tee shirt and she has a makeshift bed mostly made up on the sofa. You go over to help her with the remaining pillows and blankets.

* * *

"Camping," she says, giving you a smile and a sideways glance as she fluffs up a pillow.

"Just needs s'mores," you joke back, trying to keep the mood as light as possible.

You're just taking off your shirt when there's a knock at the door. Kate is in the kitchen getting two glasses of water.

"You expecting anyone?" you ask warily, checking your watch.

She shakes her head. "No."

"Where's your gun?" you ask her.

"Great minds," she replies, fetching her Glock from the drawer in the hall table and then stealthily creeping towards the front door. "Stay back," she tells you, when you follow her.

"Who is it?" she calls out, once she reaches the door, her gun trained on the floor.

"It's me. Josh," comes the reply, and you both look at one another, wide-eyed and possibly more fearful than if some of Hal Lockwood's buddies had shown up outside.

In a pantomime of stage whispers and hand gestures you offer to hide. But Kate tells you to stay put. She unlocks the door and when it swings open, Josh strides in, intent on giving her a hug it would appear, until he notices the gun in her hand and then the tall man standing in the background.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asks, aiming the question mostly at you.

"I should go," you tell Kate, reaching for your shirt, quite possibly the worst thing you could have done since it draws attention to your state of undress: the white undershirt and your belt buckle hanging loose from your pants.

"No!" insists Kate, her voice low and determined. "I asked you to stay."

"Kate, what is he doing here at this hour? Tell me this isn't what it looks like," says Josh, ignoring you now in favor of his girlfriend.

"It isn't what it looks like," she says, calmly putting her gun back in the drawer.

"Then why does he have his clothes off and…"

"Roy was killed tonight," she says flatly, backing away when Josh tries to reach for her.

"I know. I'm sorry. I heard through the grapevine at work. I tried calling, but your phone…"

"My phone is off," says Kate, nodding, her arms crossed over her chest protectively.

You don't know whether to stand or sit or go…somewhere.

"Castle was there tonight...with me. He…Roy called him to get me out of harms way. I was the bait, turns out. But…"

You watch Kate shake her head and look at the floor.

Josh attempts to reach for her again and this time she puts her hands up to stop him.

"Josh, don't," she says, looking into his face, and you see the second it dawns on him - his fate.

"_This _guy?" he asks, pointing at you with a look of disgust on his face. "Could have had the guts to break up with me first, Kate."

"Nothing happened," she says, keeping her voice measured.

"Tell that to the judge," mutters Josh. "Little too late for denials. Something's be going on between you two for far too long. The way he hung around you all the time, I was an idiot not to deal with it sooner."

"Well, I'm dealing with it now," she says quietly. "It's over, Josh."

"Yeah? Well, thanks for the heads up. Shame my timing's so poor. Few more sutures in theater tonight and he might have got more than just his shirt off."

"Right, that's enough," says Kate, trying to shepherd Josh back towards the front door. "A good man died tonight."

"And I'll bet he just couldn't _wait_ to comfort you," spits Josh, spitefully.

"No. I asked _him_ to stay. Believe what you want. This isn't Castle's fault. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't even _be here_ right now."

"Yeah, well, good luck getting her to open up and trust you," the doctor throws over Kate's shoulder, aiming his rebuke at you, before he strides out the door and down the hallway.

* * *

"You okay?" you ask Kate, once she closes the front door, rubbing her forehead as she walks back into the living room.

"Fine. Tired. I'm just sorry you had to see that," she tells you, giving you a wan smile.

"Timing was never our strong suit," you reply, ruefully.

"Actually, I think it's more other people's timing we have a problem with."

"Still, maybe I should go. Give you a little space to deal with everything."

"Castle…" she says, waiting until you look at her. "I've had enough space from you to last me a lifetime. What I need right now is my friend."

"I'll always be your friend, Kate," you reply, grateful when she reaches out to hug you; pliant and wounded and brave enough to ask for what she needs, no matter Josh's parting shot.

* * *

You hold her for a couple of minutes, stroking one hand up and down her back, your chin resting on top of her head as she leans against you; slender and warm, her body slotting in against yours so perfectly you could weep. You let your mind drift out into the darkness, Roy's face swimming in front of you, still finding no way to convince yourself that the man is actually gone for good.

"We need to get out in front of this. First thing tomorrow," Kate says eventually, easing back so that she can look up at you. "I'll text the boys. Ask them to come over. We need to get our story straight to keep Roy's name out of this mess and protect his memory."

"I'll set my alarm, leave early," you suggest, rooting around your jacket for your phone.

"Castle, you're a part of this too. You're on the team. I want you here with me when we talk to them."

"If you're sure that's what you want?"

She nods, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Then we should really get some rest," you suggest. "We're both exhausted."

It's a little awkward at first, lying down on Kate's sofa together to try to get some sleep. But she kisses your shoulder and then wraps her arm around your chest, and you relax, taking your lead from how willing she is to nudge you both forward, despite everything. The biggest test will come tomorrow morning, you realize, when calmer heads will prevail and she will have to confront her choices in the cold, hard light of day.

* * *

You wake on and off throughout the night, unused to the warmth of a soft, feminine body at your back. Your heart starts pounding every time you realize where you are and why you're not alone in your own bed. Kate barely moves all night and you're grateful she gets the rest she needs. Dawn breaks early, trailing grey panes of dusty light out across her kitchen floor. You get up quietly around seven, use the bathroom, and then pad over to the kitchen to figure out her coffee machine.

"Hey, how'd you sleep?" you ask her, when you see her stir in the living room out of the corner of your eye, sitting up wrapped in a blanket as you pour out a coffee for yourself.

You wave the coffee pot in her direction and she nods, stretching, and you find yourself having to look away, the sight of her so sleepy and soft-looking making you ache deep inside.

You take your cup, and a second one for Kate, back over to the sofa, and she pats the space beside her for you to climb back in under the blankets and join her. You drink your coffee in silence for a few minutes before she speaks.

"Hey?" she says, lightly touching your arm to get your attention.

"Hmm?"

"Whatever happens today or tomorrow with all the craziness that's bound to go on, I want you to know how much I…"

She drops her chin onto her raised knees and blows out a breath.

"How much you…?" you prompt, hoping this is something important, something good.

"How much I…_appreciate _you staying with me. I know I didn't make things easy for you last night. I pushed, when I shouldn't have."

Your heart is sinking faster than a rock towards the ocean floor, this conversation taking exactly the turn you feared. She's recanting, going backwards, moving away from the progress you hoped you'd made towards some kind of real relationship.

"Hey, I'm your partner. It's what we do, right?" you say with false levity, helping her out of anything awkward by throwing her yet another lifebelt, and damn your stupid rush to chivalry, you think.

"No. No, it's a lot more than that, Castle," she says, and then she shocks the hell out of you when she leans in and kisses the side of your mouth and then presses her cheek against yours. "It's a start," she adds, resting against your side. "A really, really good start."

* * *

You're showered and dressed, though still unshaven, folding away the last of the blankets while Kate gets dressed, when there's a knock at the front door.

"Castle, can you get that?" she yells from her bedroom, so you do as she asks and answer the door.

You're not sure who is more surprised to find who standing there, you still in your bare feet. But Ryan and Esposito's jaws all but hit the floor as they give you a slow, none-too-subtle once over.

"Beckett's just…eh…" you stutter, glancing back, guiltily, over your shoulder. "Sorry, come on in, guys," you say, stepping out of the way to let the boys pass.

Kate comes out of the bedroom dressed all in black, the turtleneck she's wearing highlighting the pallor in her skin and the dark circles that ring her eyes. She catches your panicked look and gives you a reassuring smile, squeezes your arm as she passes by, and then quietly goes over to hug each of the boys in turn.

"I'll just…" you say awkwardly, gesturing towards the kitchen. "I'll get us all some coffee."

You can't hear what's being said, but you're pretty sure Kate gives them both some kind of a heads up as to what's transpired over the last few hours, because when you come back over with a tray of mugs and a pot of coffee, the boys stand in turn and give you a brotherly hug and a slap on the back.

"Good job protecting our girl, bro," says Esposito, nodding his approval.

"Yeah, tough night, man," agrees Ryan. "You did a good thing, Castle."

"There was no other way," you tell them solemnly, meaning Roy. You glance at Kate, who nods at you in confirmation and then drops her head to look at the floor. "No choice to be made. Lockwood made sure of that."

"Yeah, well, we're just glad you're on our team," adds Ryan, and then everyone falls silent.

* * *

"No one. No one outside of this immediate family _ever_ needs to know about this," Kate tells all of you, once the horrors of the night before and Montgomery's part in the kidnappings, shooting and subsequent cover-up have all been discussed and dissected. "As far as the world is concerned, Roy Montgomery died a hero. We owe it to him. All of us," she says, meeting your eyes and locking on.

She looks so graceful in her grief, dignified, her beautiful face etched with a pain you wish you could take away for her. Far too many opportunities to go through this same tragic circumstance for someone of her age, you realize with a sharp pang. And how that must change you, you speculate, little by little, losing more of yourself each time.

* * *

The next couple of days are busy, with the rigors and demands of the investigation, I.A.B's involvement, and the complex and detailed organization behind an official NYPD funeral to be taken care of.

You visit Evelyn and the girls with Kate to offer your condolences and to get her input into the funeral planning. When you hug Evelyn Montgomery goodbye at the end of the visit, your lip is trembling and you feel bile burning the back of your throat, knowing that you stood outside that hangar and allowed her husband to die in order to protect the woman you love. You can barely raise a hand to wave to the two girls standing, fatherless, on the doorstep.

"Come on, Castle," says Kate, quietly, taking your hand and leading you down the Montgomery's driveway. "We've done all we can here," she tells you, gently tugging on your hand. "Come on. It's what Roy would have wanted," she reassures you, meaning the layer of silence and obfuscation you paint over everything to do with his death, every time it is discussed, or a report is filed, a eulogy written.

You spend a few hours together outside of the Precinct in the evening, cooking or ordering in, but take your relationship no further by tacit agreement, until the dust has settled. Kate does lean on you though, for comfort, advice, to talk out the mess that's swirling inside her head now that her mom's case has taken on an extra layer of complication with the revelation of Montgomery's apparent involvement; all the questioning and revisionist thinking she goes through with this loss of truth and trust, her life turned upside down by evil once more.

You spend every night in your own bed, alone, tossing and turning until exhaustion carts you off to sleep for a few fitful hours, and you only breath again when daylight comes.

* * *

The shocking events that transpire at the funeral a few days later are so heart-breaking that you would have a hard time putting fictional characters through a similar scenario in one of your books. To say you feel cheated is a massive understatement. You've had so little time together, and still they're coming for her, after everything she's been through.

There's nothing you can do about it this time, no way of stepping in to save her when you spot that glint of sunlight on the scope of a high-powered sniper rifle, hearing the crack of the shot just a fraction of a second too late...

"_Kate!_"

* * *

_A/N: So, there we have it. Filling in the imagined blanks. Thank you for reading, as always. Have a great weekend. Liv_


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